Let me start this article by saying that writing is definitely a long term part of the calling on my life. The words I write are spirit, and they are life. That said, I realize that much of what I write encourages others to overcome their own obstacles. For that, I’m extremely grateful. However, if I’m honest with myself and you, much of what I’ve written lately has been borne out of an inner turmoil that, if not addressed properly, has the potential to kill me…LITERALLY.
Never before have I been able to write in the midst of a storm. When issues arose, I created a cocoon for myself that prevented me from operating in what I know I’ve been called to do: WRITE. I would try, but the pages remained empty, and the space on the computer screen was a black hole where my thoughts were sucked into a vortex of doubt, loathing and self-sabotage.
As a remedy, I simply got in the habit of recording what I was going through in my mind and then translating it to pen and paper once the situation was totally resolved. Most of my articles like “Back to Life: Surviving the Lost Identity Syndrome,” and “Marriage Ain’t for Ring Bearers and Flower Girls: It’s For Grown Folks!” came from this balanced place. This place was relieved that those torrential seasons in my life were over, and determined to record every lesson learned in the most transparent way possible. Although writing in that state is helpful to the reader, it’s easy to detach as the author because I’ve already been there, done that and got the t-shirt.
What you have been witnessing ever since “The Reality of Foreclosure” has been nothing short of a miracle. I’ve found myself writing with a depth and clarity I’ve never been able to capture before…
…And it scares me.
What you were reading before April of 09 was about a person who was in a different skin; a person who had gone through the process of shedding immaturity, bad habits and funky attitudes and become a stronger, wiser, more compassionate person as a result.
What you are now reading is live and direct, playing before the plasma screen of your eyes as I writhe in pain and mental anguish, trying to figure out what our next step as a family is going to be. I am writing about present tense, and if I didn’t know writing was part of my destiny before, I definitely know it now.
My motivation has always been to express the grace and glory of God in my flawed life. It was just safer to write about it after the fact. But now, as I pour my life out like a drink offering before you, my motivation is to STAY ALIVE–emotionally, spiritually, financially and physically–as I engage blow for blow, pound for pound and word for word in what could quite possibly be the fight of my life!
I write for every quotation mark my overcoming this experience will leave in its wake. I write to keep a comma in a part of my life where a period wants to step in and bring finality to this person named Harriet.
I write to LIVE.
What about you, BMWK? What is your motivation for doing what you’ve been doing? Are you pushed, in spite of the worst circumstances, to follow your dreams? Or have you pushed those dreams to the back burner for the sake of playing it safe? Share your story!